30 Nails
by ScottishPanties
Summary: 30 prompts that build up to make one super series about the Strawhat's best cybernetic shipwright.
1. Pitiable: Angel

Lying on the deck, he could have sworn he heard someone there with him. That wasn't possible; this thing was abandoned, a junker. No one taking proper care would let it fall into this state. It was an abandoned wreck, like him.

He could feel it, though, sometimes, just a flicker of presence, but as soon as he cracked open his weary eyes, he was alone. His nervous system must be a mess, sensing things that weren't there. An undistinguished word, the notion of a hand just over his body, and a warm numbness that came with it every time he thought he sensed the presence. Mind tricks on a failing body.

But, that feeling they brought with them, as if assuring he didn't need to stay in this state, that he could be so much happier, and leave all this behind… it tempted him. He was tired… so tired. This presence wanted to help, to take him where he didn't need to wallow in shame or pity any longer. Whoever it was, they didn't judge him for everything he'd ruined.

Cutty Flam choked on the slurry of phlegm and blood gathering in the back of his throat, and spat it out beside him on the deck.

He didn't have the right to feel like there was someone out there, pitying him. He'd brought this onto himself, and wishing for someone to make the pain go away wasn't going to fix any of the damage done. Not to him. Not to anyone. And he wouldn't let himself let go of this pain until he fixed it for all of them.

Trying not to put too much effort on his shattered arms, he pulled himself up, and a bleary eye caught sight of a flash of white in the red pooled beneath him.

A few white feathers, quickly staining in his blood. A seagull must have been resting with him, but there was no sign of the bird anymore. Made sense; he had to get moving, too.


	2. Rot Repair: Salvage

When Franky went to look at the ship, he'd been prepared to find the thing ready to be sent off—perhaps he was in the mindset due to having this so soon after Merry's departure. But when he heard how long Bones had been stuck floating uselessly in this foggy nothingness, it was pretty easy to come to the conclusion that his ship must have been much the worse for wear.

He couldn't say he was disappointed to be proved wrong, however. The hull was a mess, the steering totally shot, and rot was eating away at some of the boards, but there was more than enough there to give the proper boost. Really, if that batty old coot had known the first thing about carpentry, he probably could have fixed the steering himself decades ago.

The sounds of the party still drifted across the water, not slowed in the slightest by the two days since its beginning, and that one song Bones liked so much still lingering in the sounds of merriment. It would be kinda nice to have someone else to play the role of the musician, now; his little guitar couldn't really hold up to the old guy's repertoire, really. It'd make the captain happy, too—rumor had it the guy had been wanting a musician from the start, huh? Bones' get well appreciated.

The cyborg patted one hand against the old ship's siding as he arranged his tools on the deck. Yeah, it looked like this thing would need a lot of work to get put back in proper state, but there was still enough to keep it together. Something stronger than just nails, he suspected; it had watched over what remained of its crew for all these years, and it wasn't about to give in yet. A smile found its way onto Franky's face as he looked up at the towering vessel. If he thought of it that way, maybe this ship did have some things in common with old Merry. How many more dangers had that old skeleton managed to skim past, in this sea?

He hefted his hammer to start the work. Yeah, this old thing had gone through a lot, that was clear. But with a little love and care, it could carry through for a while yet.


	3. Roasted Garlic: Legend

"Mako, you need to drink all your soup!"

The boy seethed, glowering down at the steaming bowl set before him. "It's icky, it's got garlic in it! I don't want any of it!"

His mother scowled, and waggled her spoon at him. "Young man, if you don't eat every last drop, the flaming beast will take you away and punish you!"

Startled, he looked up at her, mouth slightly open. "The—y-you mean, it's real?" He bit his lip. "They were talking about it at school, but Teacher said that it's just another one of Mr. Vega's animals."

Mako's mother sighed. "This is much scarier than the cyborgs here on the island. Its blaze cuts through the storm even in a blizzard, and it can be heard yelling in pain from the fire!" He curled her fingers and pressed her hands together to imitate teeth. "And it's got two nasty sets of teeth, one right behind the other, like a shark—perfect for eating naughty little boys."

Mako's eyes grew wider. "But—but I don't want to get eaten!"

"You haven't got anything to worry about, dear!" She brightened. "It won't go after you unless…" She paused, pressing a hand to her chest as she remembered. "Oh dear, that's right…" Mako shrank against the back of his chair as she cast him a regretful look. "The monster… it hates the taste of garlic, and won't touch anyone who eats it, but if you really hate the flavor that much… maybe it will just eat you whole, instead of roasting you over its flames first…"

There was a terrified gasp, and she smiled as her son grasped his spoon with a new resolve and dipped into the reviled dish.


	4. Just Like You: Ugly Shirts

Iceberg gaped at the younger boy. "You can't be serious about going like that."

Franky curled his lip and crossed his arms. "What's wrong with it? I look fine!"

"You look like you. That's the problem." The elder apprentice made a face to imitate Franky's. Sure, he'd gotten used to the pantslessness and garish shirts, but the idea of him showing off his lack of fashion sense on his first date was almost pathetic.

"Shut up, Stupidberg, when was the last time you got to go out with anyone? She said yes when I asked her out, that means she likes how I dress!" Franky put his hands on his hips, jaw jutting out in defiance.

"All that means is she's scared you're going to keep asking, like you did all week." Iceberg shook his head, turning back to his blueprints. "She must think you're a total freak, going that far and not even trying to look good for her."

There was a pause, and Franky smoothed out his shirt. "But I bought a new shirt and everything. It cost a lot."

The older boy looked back again, brow furrowed. The shirt was bright blue, patterns of yellow and orange clashing violently in the foreground, depicting an array of leaves and flowers.

"She'll think it's great," Franky insisted once more. "You'll see."

Iceberg raised an eyebrow, before rubbing his head. "Nmaa… well, if you wore anything else, she wouldn't really be going out with you, anyway. Girls hate it when guys pretend to be someone else."

Franky paused for a moment, before brightening. "Yeah! That's right!" He stretched out his arms above his head, victorious. "No guy's more real'n I am!"

With a barely-restrained smile, Iceberg turned away again. "You're the real deal, all right…"


	5. Common Logic: Mantra

Time was a kind of funny thing. There was a lot of it, in one way or another. The past and the future both stretched on infinitely, giving the overwhelming impression that they were much more important to think about. A great many individuals spent all their time worrying over what was to come, where their future would take them, and if they were prepared for it—like Longnose, who got caught up in the oncoming consequences, and spent his time being a big whiner over some of the dumbest little things. Others, like Nico Robin, lived in the past, drowning in regrets and worrying over mistakes that simply couldn't be fixed, eventually making them feel like the present didn't even matter.

Franky thought such people to be a bit dumb and in serious need of a life reevaluation. The past was already taken care of, and the future would get here in its own sweet time. If you wanted to get anything done, you had to focus on the present. That was common logic.

He only ever looked as far back as he needed to remember what he'd learned, and he only planned far enough in the future to figure what it was he wanted to do at this moment. Sometimes this led to a few shortsighted or repeated mistakes, but it was a hell of a lot more fun than what most other people seemed to be having, and that was all he needed.

As far as he was concerned, this week was the only timeframe that anyone really needed to think about.


	6. Coming to an Agreement: Forbidden

"Franky!" The captain waved down his shipwright as the man entered their quarters. "Come on, Usopp's about to tell us a story, come listen with us!"

"Oh yeah? What's today's gonna be about?" Franky paced over to his hammock, grinning.

Seated on the floor with Chopper perched in his bony lap, Brook waved about his teacup. "Oh, Mister Usopp was just giving us a fascinating prologue, I believe it's to be a delightful tale about a young man who—"

"Actually, you know what, Franky, I don't think it's your kind of thing." Usopp cut in, waving a hand. "Kinda kiddy, you know?"

The cyborg laughed. "Don't sell yourself short, Longnose, you always make up the best stuff! So what, is this gonna be a multi-parter?"

Luffy opened his mouth to continue talking up the incoming tale, but Usopp stood, hands raised and with a strained smile. "Aaahaha, hold on a second, let's just… er…" He took a few long steps over to Franky, pulling him aside to whisper in his ear. "Listen, Franky, do you mind me a favor and just… sitting this one out? My throat still hasn't recovered after last time…"

"The hell're you talkin' about?"

"It's just, this one, I've been working on it all afternoon, I wanna make sure they like it!"

"Well shit, that sounds awesome, bro! What's the problem?"

Usopp scratched his head, all awkward smiles and trying to find an interesting spot on the floor to study. "Well, I just… want the other guys to get into it, but you sort of… I mean, it's great to have an involved audience, don't get me wrong, but… it gets hard to talk over you when you… y'know… start crying."

The sniper looked up to find a very stony-faced shipwright glaring down at him. He flinched, but Franky didn't move. He just glared down at the boy. After several seconds, Usopp managed a quiet "Uh…"

"Glad we had this chat, Longnose," Franky replied, clapping the kid on the back and going to sit down on the floor with the others. "C'mon, let's get started!"

As the other Strawhats burst into cheers of agreement, Usopp had to wonder what he was even thinking to bother.


	7. Eventually: Beanstalk

Kokoro hovered at the door, peering at the two boys who glared at each other from across the table. Mouth drawn tight, she gave a small sigh. "Are you sure about this, Tom?"

She could hear the smile in the fishman's voice as he set out the futon behind her. "Of course I am! What's to doubt?"

Tearing her gaze away from the new addition, she instead cast a doubtful frown at her employer. "You're too careless. We're already taking care of Iceberg, bringing in another boy on a whim is dangerous with so little money."

To be honest, she more or less expected the laughter that bubbled up in response. "You don't think I would just go and take him in for the fun of it, do you?" He shook his head, grinning. "I'm no Samaritan, Kokoro. I don't do something without a reward!"

"You don't have to put it like that," she sighed, arms crossed. Poorly worded as it was, the mermaid wouldn't deny that she hadn't thought Tom the sort of bleeding heart to take in an abandoned child purely from the goodness of his heart.

Behind her, she heard Iceberg's voice grunt something, and a high-pitched retort of indignation from the smaller boy. "He just… this one seems like much more of a handful than Iceberg."

"Ahahaa! A handful! Haa, haa…" Tom wheezed in mirth a moment longer. "Ahhh, ha… yep, he does sure seem like the opposite of our Iceberg, doesn't he?" Out in the dining room, the volume of their voices was on the rise. "But you didn't see him out there." He closed his eyes, grinning. "There's something about him. He's not much to look at now, but he'll grow into something strong, before long. It'll come up even."

That distant tone in his voice… there was no doubt. When Tom chose to put his faith in something, it wasn't without basis. "You plan for the long term, don't you, Tom?" He just smiled at that, and there was the sound of furniture getting overturned in the next room over, and furious yells rising in tandem. Kokoro shook her head, allowing herself an uncertain smile. She could only hope it wouldn't be too long a wait.


	8. Weight and Relief: God

Zoro paused at the door, staring at the newest crewmate. Franky raised an eyebrow, not halting in his reps. "Somethin' wrong, bro?"

"No." The swordsman's moment of surprise had vanished, his face drawn back to its usual impassiveness. "I wasn't expecting you to be working out here, is all."

"I built the room, I'm damn well gonna use it."

Zoro shrugged, hefting a thick ring of metal onto a bar. "Whatever. Just thought I'd be the only one here."

The freshly recruited carpenter frowned. "What, you ain't had to share the space before?"

Another ring, another fifty kilos. "Well, we didn't have a workout room on Merry, so I had to do it out on the deck anyway. Nothing I'm not used to." Without glancing away from his increasingly heavy barbell, the first mate could feel Franky's grin on his back, and Zoro's own perpetual frown deepened a little. "No one else lifts weights, if that's what you mean." Another hundred kilos. "Didn't think you'd be the type, either."

There was a moment of silence, before the older man spoke, apparently indignant. "Oi, you think I don't take care of my physique?"

Another hundred fifty kilos. Zoro looked over his shoulder, back to where Franky was perched on the bench with his dumbbells. "I didn't say that."

"But you thought I don't try to keep my body at its most super."

"I didn't _say_ that." This guy wasn't going to be another Sanji, was he? All he wanted was to work out in peace.

But, instead of arguing further, the cyborg grunted and shifted the reps, apparently shifting from bicep to shoulder muscles. "I'd have to be some sorta dumbass to rely on just the cyborg parts, if that's what you're getting at."

Zoro wasn't all that surprised that Franky had figured out what he was thinking. Two hundred kilos. It would do for a warmup. "I just thought that you were the sort to work with what you had."

"I don't settle, if that's what y'mean."

The first mate shrugged as he moved around to the unladen end of the bar. "Whatever."

A few minutes passed in silence, save for faint grunts of effort accompanied with the clinking of metal on metal. Zoro hadn't suspected that the massive, energetic man they'd brought in would be capable of working in silence, but he supposed everyone had a few surprises up their sleeve. He still wasn't sure how to feel about sharing the space, though.

"You're only part right, anyway," Franky noted, confirming the original suspicion that the guy didn't know how to keep his mouth shut long. Zoro only glanced at him in response. "I make do with what I get. But if I can make it even better, then there's no reason to hold back, huh?" The cyborg grinned. "Things'd be boring if we just were happy with what we were given."

"Sometimes we aren't given anything to be happy about." Zoro stabbed the weights out in front of him. Maybe he should add more; such little effort wasn't satisfying him. "And you have to make it all yourself."

"Nah, that don't make any sense." Another glance over, and Zoro couldn't shake the feeling that the shipwright was actually making poses out of the alternating reps as he spoke. He should have expected it. "There's always gotta be potential for somethin' good. See, Swords-bro, how can you make anything good if you got shit materials? You make a boat with rotted wood, it's a shit boat."

Was that another stab at Merry? Zoro put down his bar and went for another ring. "They can't all be Adam Wood."

Franky laughed at that. "Wouldn't that be super!"

Two hundred fifty kilos. "Hnn."

Despite not having said anything, Franky took the grunt as a continue to keep going. "See, thass' the thing. I made you guys Sunny out of the best materials money could buy, yeah?" Three hundred kilos. "But that's just the first level of how super she can be. I'm here t'make sure she keeps getting stronger and stronger, instead of just allowing it to stay as it was."

"You didn't wanna come at first," Zoro reminded him.

Even if the pause only lasted a few seconds, he could feel Franky suddenly become much more still. "Well. I had something else I wanted to keep making better, also." Another brief moment of silence, before the cyborg shrugged his way back into an eager smile. "Guess I just had to figure out whose potential I was more eager to see."

Just short of adding three hundred and fifty, Zoro paused. "Abandoning one future for the sake of the other, huh?"

"Jeez, you're a downer about it, bro." In spite of the words, their new carpenter just kept smiling. "I just had to place my bets on which one of 'em would be taking _my_ potential further." He set down his dumbbells, and gave them a small pat. "Gotta get some flexibility training in, man. See ya at dinner."

Zoro had the sneaking suspicion that flexibility training was just another way of saying the guy was going to go pose more somewhere, but that wasn't any of his business. "Oi," he called after, shoving on another rung. Franky looked back from the doorway. "Blaming bad work on your materials is just a weakling's excuse. Remember that."

The cyborg sneered, and tapped at his metal nose, gleaming against the sunlight angled through the door. "Trust me, kid. I know how to find the good stuff."

Kid? The protest was still forming in his mind by the time Franky vanished down the rigging. With a scowl, he brought the bar to four hundred.


	9. Getting Comfortable: Raft

Splinters stung against his bare feet, and Cutty Flam snarled, trying to rub at the sores but only worsening the irritation as the wood was shifted about under his skin. Sucking in a breath through his teeth, he squinted down in an attempt to figure out just how to get the little buggers out. The larger pieces had been easy to pull free, though in some places they'd left his soles red and raw. It was the smallest ones, the ones whose placement were hardest to identify and extract, that were the most bothersome.

Grumbling quiet fury, the boy sat on the wooden wreckage that had piled around the ruined city's edge, glaring at his own feet for the pitiful little discomfort they were distracting him with. There were a lot of things that, given his situation, he should have been a bit more concerned with than a few errant splinters. He could have focused on the wreckage piling high around him, of ruined and worthless vessels. He might have been more concerned with the cold winds that likely heralded the coming darker clouds not too long from now, and the rising waves battering against the barely-floating heap of scraps he had so firmly sat himself down upon.

Or maybe he should have been looking out at the ship shrinking on towards the horizon, sailing on without looking back.

But no, Cutty Flam wanted to get these little, annoying little pains out of his focus right now. If he was going to be staying here, now, he'd need to work on building up some calluses; it would just be bothersome if he kept getting distracted by such little, unimportant things.


	10. Faster Than Sinking: Swamp

Business, it seemed, had improved. It had not been long at all since people had come to suspect they'd never be able to say something like that again, and only in the most recent years had business picked up enough to save Peranti Wares from using its last boards to nail shut its doors. Peranti Keras felt a pride brimming whenever he took the moment to look out and see the eager shipwrights and carpenters looking for materials.

Now, he took one of said moments to glance past the lean fellow who'd brought in the new shipment of sheet metal from the sea train—had he carried it one-armed all the way from the station? The new boys at Galley-La were really something—and caught a glimpse of something lurking in the shadows outside his shop. A thick figure, large and shapeless by one of his outdoor displays of wares.

Of course—despite all the city's improvements in this last few years, there were still too many unsavory types about. His (rather one-sided) conversation trailed off as he set his attention on the suspicious shape sidling up to the box of screws. Beside him, the shipwright tensed and glanced over.

Keras have the worker a quick smile. "Nothing to concern yourself over, my good man, just something for the manager to handle. You should get back to work." The man said nothing, though the bird on his shoulder gave a trill of agreement as Keras made a casual but deliberate beeline out.

With a clearer view, he could better see why this individual was so hard to pick out any features; apparently, they had decided to wrap themselves over in thick cloth, entirely obscuring their face and hiding away any bare skin. He thought he could see the end of gloved fingers just reaching beyond the edge of a long, thick sleeve. Someone with something to hide, and one who was up to no good if anything at all. Perhaps the thief was distracted, or maybe just stupid to have put that much view-blocking cloth around their face, but they failed to notice the shopowner's approach until he was reaching out to grab them by the arm.

"I certainly hope you've got a few pockets in there to hold the Beri you're going to need for those." He bared his teeth in his best marketing smile.

There was a pause, one long enough to confirm suspicions, and Keras began to tighten his grip around the thief's arm—he didn't care if this individual was larger than his own portly frame, this was his shop. Though, as he dug in for a more solid grip on the arm under the cloth, something felt wrong—there wasn't enough give, it was too hard underneath…

The arm was ripped out of his grasp, sudden and even more powerful than Keras had suspected of that size. "Don't go around accusin' your customers, bro," came the muffled reply, a distinctly male voice from under the wraps. "You can charge it to my tab."

His smile wore back to one of mild bemusement. "Hard to do for a faceless man. I like to know my customers." He crossed his arms; at least the thief wasn't attempting to run.

The cloth about the head tilted back as a hidden face looked up at the shop. "Peranti's Wares. You never shut down, huh?"

The question caught him off guard, and he found himself trying to look into the darkness for a face to place along the voice. "Came close, a couple years back, before the train started bringing in fresh supplies. Lots of people wanted to start rebuilding, then."

There was a noise halfway between a laugh and a cough. "Yeah, I know." The hidden face turned back down to watch him again. "People were tryin' before that, though, weren't they?"

In spite of the odd turn this conversation had taken, the shopowner couldn't help but want to see where it would lead. "It's how we kept open this long—people repairing. They just couldn't do it as fast as the island was sinking."

The living bundle of cloth wavered where it stood, perhaps shifting stance, the sleeves rising to cross its arms. "Must've pissed you off, huh?" Keras stared, before the hulking man went on. "Using your materials like that, y'know? Supposed to use wares to make new stuff, buildin' up bigger and better instead of just trying to keep afloat the same rotting buildings. Waste of potential, bro."

Keras chewed at the inside of cheek, mulling over the words. Was the voice familiar, or was it merely speaking words that he'd thought himself so many times that it felt nostalgic to hear? "I had a few customers who tried a little harder than that, way back when. That's how we got the Sea Train, after all."

That brought on a laugh, and even if he couldn't see it, he felt the sharp gaze piercing down at him. "You talkin' 'bout that crazy old fishman? Lunatic just was scrabblin' for a way out of execution. Couldn't build his way out of his mistakes, there." The figure turned back to the original box he'd been fingering through, pulling out a small handful of bolts. "Put it on my tab, Peranti. I'll get it back to you when I've built my way up."

Now, Keras found his attention set away from the hidden face, down to the gloves pulling out small parts. The fingers were thick, and clumsy, as if unused to their own size. "Give me a list of what you need," he agreed.


	11. Veiled Accomplishments: Ball

"Hey, Franky." The cook's voice, sharp and somber in tone, cut through the idle chatter with Usopp about the pros and cons of mixing things with gunpowder. Franky glanced up to Sanji, brow raised. The blond man jerked his head towards the door. "We need to talk."

"Uh, what's the matt—" Before Usopp could question any further, Franky stood up. Honestly, he was glad Sanji had finally come up—it was getting annoying to keep pretending not to notice the chef's constant staring. Usopp was left with his baffled expression as the two men strode off, Sanji leading the way to the empty aquarium room.

"So," Franky started, taking a seat and leaning back, perfectly relaxed in spite of the cook's reserved attitude. "What's on your mind, Curly?"

Instead of taking the prompt to start, though, Sanji apparently needed his nicotine fix before delving into what prompted him to start gawking at the shipwright for the last few days. While Sanji pulled out a fresh cigarette and dug through his pockets for a match, Franky hovered between impatience and interest in what the younger man was so worked up about.

Finally, after exhaling his first breath of smoke, the chef spoke, head bowed and muscles slightly tensed. "Back when we were dealing with the Marines, then. You and Miss Robin…" He paused there, holding the cigarette in front of his mouth as he searched for the right word, but Franky's attention had already been caught. The events of Enies Lobby wouldn't be hard to forget any time soon, and he knew that everyone still had Robin's harsh choices on their mind so soon after the episode. "Whatever it is that you said, or did to her then… I still don't know if I can believe how huge an effect that affair had on her."

Franky leaned forward, over his knees with a furrowed brow. "Dunno if you can really say that I was the one who made the difference, there." The image of Robin, handcuffed and almost lifeless in her resignment to her fate, still stood out fresh in his mind. "I just was doin' what I could to help her out of that funk." Though Franky was trying to be as casual as possible about the matter, it seemed the memory of his crewmate's plight still made Sanji tense up. That didn't excuse the chef's tapping of ash onto the polished wood floor; Franky eyed the soot with a scowl.

"She didn't come to her decision all her own, though," Sanji went on, tone taken on something darker. He still kept his head low, looking at something below where Franky actually sat. "Making a decision to do such a thing, you must have convinced her, with your actions."

Raising an eyebrow, Franky gave a small shrug. "Listen, man, you showed up not too long after. You saw how she was, right? 'Course she had to take some convincing, but I wasn't the only one who got her to choose how to handle it." Six pirates, standing against the world—that was a scene that could help anyone come to a decision. "And when you get right down to it, the one who finally went for it was her. I ain't gonna take full credit for anythin'."

Finally, the blond man drew himself up, glaring Franky in the eye, shoulders squared. "Don't give me that! Whatever you did, it must have loosened her up to it! We'd been traveling together for months, but you and she had only just met. After all she's been through, I know that Miss Robin won't open herself up to just anyone—you must have done something to get her there!" His hand went up to tug at the tie's knot against his neck, somehow both aggressive and nervous in movement. "You… what did you say to her? How did you get her to trust you like that?"

Though there was no doubt in his mind how earnest Sanji's plea was, Franky wasn't exactly sure what the kid was trying to ask of him. The cyborg drew back, crossing his arms. "Don't know what you want to hear from me, Cook-bro."

The denial only aggravated Sanji further, teeth gritted down on his cigarette and gaze continuing to flicker downwards. "You… she… I need to know how…"

In the moments before the truth came to light, Franky suddenly had the dawning horror of his mistake, but it was too late to correct the boy before the question was blurted out.

"H-how did you convince her to give you a handjob?"

A flash of pain seared at the memory, before Franky went decidedly numb all over. "The hell'd you say."

"D-don't deny it! Chopper said—that's how she got you on board, isn't it? Sweet Miss Robin, and you—I won't stand for it! I won't let you taint her with—!"

Franky stood up, towering over the cook, and the wildly insipid accusations came to a sudden stop, though Sanji still held his challenging stance against the massive cyborg.

"Kid," Franky growled, "I don't need to hear this from someone still makin' cherry pies. Got that?" Sanji's face reached the maximum shade of red, and the shipwright stormed from the room before the moron could say something worse.

Usopp, sketching out something on a pad as he'd waited, looked up. "Oi, what was—"

"Nothing," Franky spat, beelining for the ladder down to the artillery room. "C'mon, Longnose, let's go blow some shit up."


	12. Waves of Grain: Earth

In the dark and without the slightest notion of sleep on its way, it could be difficult to keep your mind from wandering to questions, small mysteries and unknowns that loomed in the mind all the more fiercely when distractions had hidden away with the daylight. Iceberg had these sorts of nights often, wondering over all manners of questions that rarely came to a solid answer as he mulled over their points again and again in his head.

These nights, he noticed, had been on the rise ever since that miserable little brat of an apprentice had come in, siphoning away Tom's attention and causing all-around more distractions and difficulties than their group needed.

He studied the wooden boards above him, the grain the same as ever with its silent indifference to his search for answers. But as Iceberg studied the faint, curving lines of a tree long chopped away, even new questions arose. Questions that, suddenly, might have the answer there in the room with him.

Lying still for a time, debating over if it was worth the question, the elder apprentice sat upright, glancing over Tom's slow rising-and-sinking girth to spy the boy curled up on the other side; Flam's back was turned away, curled in on himself. Mental debate raged a while further, before the blue-haired head turned just enough to allow one eye to glower back. Apparently Iceberg was not alone in his occasional bouts of insomnia, though who knew what sort of things ran through the small terror's mind in the dark. "What," came the small hiss.

Yet again Iceberg questioned himself, if he should bother. "Nothing. I'll talk to you in the morning."

There was a tiny snort, and an uttered word that Iceberg figured was probably "whatever," and Flam turned away again. He, however, couldn't quite get himself to lie back down again, looking down at his lap. The thought that had arisen nagged too loudly.

"You've been on other islands," he finally murmured, watching Flam from the corner of his eye.

The boy shifted against the futon. "Yeah, so?"

"So you know what…" He trailed off one more time, before turning to sit facing his undesired coworker. "What does dirt feel like?"

The question hung in the air for a moment, and Franky looked back again, frowning slightly. Iceberg leaned forward, over the stomach of their sleeping mentor as his voice rose above the whisper. "And trees—what do they look like before they're cut down?"

Franky rolled over, still frowning. "What, are you stupid? Dirt's just dirt. Everyone knows that."

Heat rose in Iceberg's gut again, a fresh and potent reminder of why he so hated this newcomer's presence in his home. "You're the stupid one, if you can't even appreciate what those things are like on this island!"

Sitting up with a snarl, Franky had his vapid retorts at the ready. "Don't call me stupid, Icedumb, you're the one asking dumbass questions!"

"You didn't-!"

Large, webbed hands rose up and lay on top of the quarrelers' heads, gentle in spite of their heaviness. Iceberg jolted and looked over at Tom: the merman lay with eyes closed, but his smile clear even in the room's darkness.

Franky gave another snort, falling back to his bed with a thump and rolling back over, shoulders hunched. The elder boy glared at his foil a moment longer, before dropping back down to the futon as well. He didn't stare up at the wood grain, this time around. There were no answers to be found just from wondering in that room.


	13. Payoff: Gold

As soon as he felt her hands lacing around his neck, Franky stiffened, standing up and out of the young woman's reach. "Dammit, Girlie, I told you to keep your hands off of me!"

Nami's eyes narrowed as she looked up at the big man who had escaped her grasp. "How many times are we going to go through this, Franky?" Her words were slick and ready, as she stepped closer, while he took several more back. "You owe me."

Shaking his head, the big man looked away. He didn't want to deal with her right now. "I don't owe you jack. You don't get to make demands of me."

Lifting her chin, it was hard for Franky to believe how easily the redhead maintained an air of authority in spite of the height difference. "A little too quick to fend off my offers, aren't you? All you need to do is give it to me, and all that debt will be taken care of." That sly smile of hers slipped on, and he couldn't help but feel unnerved by her confidence.

"Don't take that route with me, and don't think I ain't ever dealt with this sort of bribin' before." He flicked the collar of his garish shirt up. "I seen how you treat Curly, and I don't want anythin' to do with that." His scowl twisted in distaste. "Who knows how many pies you got them fingers in."

Nami's expression pulled into a pout, though it was more of her playful certainty than any apparent defeat. "So willing to refuse me what I want, you know that just makes it look more valuable to me, Franky. You've got to pay off what you owe me some way or another."

"Like hell I do." He put on his own sneer of defiance. "I don't do deals with anyone that desperate. Bad business for everyone involved."

A slim eyebrow arched. "I never figured you the type to put up such a fight." She leaned in, baring her teeth in smile. "How long's it been since you really last paid anyone off?"

Glancing away, the larger man crossed his arms. "You know I've worked in a shady line o' business. It ain't the sort of thing either of us wanna hear about." Regardless of all her confidence, when he leaned over her, it made a much more intimidating statement. "I can promise you that, chica."

Their eyes locked in a long moment, a heated debate in their gaze, and Nami's grin finally soured. "You know you can't deny me forever. I get what I want." She straightened up. "One way or another, you'll give it to me."

It was Franky who broke the gaze to roll his eyes, while putting a few more steps between them once more. He didn't want her getting her hands around him again. "You're not as sly as you think you are, Girlie. G'wan, I got bigger stuff to focus on than you."

She shook her head, turning to make a slow exit, hips waving in an emphasized taunt. "Just you wait, Franky. All of them give in at one point or another."

The carpenter gave a sigh of distaste as she left the room, rubbing at his neck where her fingers had touched. It had been a real pain, once she decided that this was what she wanted. He fingered the chain that hung about his shoulders; as soon as she had realized it was plated with gold, she hadn't left him alone about it in days. Hell if he was going to just hand the thing over to her, though.


	14. Greased: Electricity

Lying against the flickering control panel, muscles spasming and eyes refusing to gain focus, Franky let loose a string of mental curses as he tried to reassess the situation. The pain wasn't all that terrible, something he'd dealt with time and time again since his body had been ruined all those years ago, but it was the complete lack of response from his cybernetic parts that left him furious. He'd designed this body in order to let himself keep moving through whatever would come, not to keel over from some wimpy short-circuiting. Raw electric force surged through the metal winding under his skin, systems frazzled as he strained to take even the slightest control.

"Franky!" Nami's voice called from the stairwell, and he cursed himself further. The crew didn't need to see him like this, a useless lump of flesh and metal. He needed to take care of this design flaw without their doubting him. Regardless, he could hear the click of heels on wood as the navigator drew close. "Where the hell was that Coup de Burst I wanted you to make? Don't waste my time, we could have been out of that storm ages ago if you'd-"

Her complaints came to a sudden stop, and Franky would have sighed if he'd had the control. "Chopper!" Nami's footsteps turned back again, quick up the stairs to find the doctor. "Come quick!" To be fair, he must have been lying there for at least half an hour, in a room filled with sparking electronics and flashing lights, without any real ideas as to how get himself up again. Whether or not he liked the others helping, or whether he thought they could, they might as well give a hand at it.

It was a matter of seconds before hooves sounded on the stairs behind him, Chopper's squeaking sounding out as he approached. "Franky! What happened, are you-ah!" A quiet _zzt_ cut the reindeer off, and more footsteps came thundering down behind him.

"Chopper! What's wrong? Fix him!" That was Strawhat, stomping his foot in impatience.

"What happened?" And Usopp's voice, the tremor of nerves ever-present.

"I… I can't get in," came Chopper's desperate gasp. "There's ungrounded electricity charging the room, I can't get near him. That bolt that struck the mast, it must have acted as a lightningrod and sent it all into this room, where…"

A lightning bolt. He should have figured that out. Damn, now he'd need to repair the whole room. Straining his focus, Franky tried to summon up the power to say something, twitching jaw stuttering the sounds beyond recognition. "Dn-nn-t-t"

They went quiet at the sound of his attempt at communication, and Usopp murmured, "He-he's still conscious in there! With all that-you think he's hurt?"

There was a twinge of irritation that they were still going about him in the third person. "C-c-cnn-"

"I think the real problem has to be his parts," Chopper was saying. "He must be short-circuiting, but even if I could get in there, I don't think I could help… there's got to be charge insulated under his skin, too, I wouldn't be able to touch him, and…" The little guy sounded on the verge of tears.

There was the sound of sizzling electricity, and Chopper and Usopp both made a yell of protest before Franky felt hands set on his shoulders and pull him off the useless control panel. His eyes refused to focus in on the face that moved in front of him, but he didn't need to. "Don't worry, Franky," Luffy assured. "We'll get you better."

"L-Luffy, I don't know if he should be…"

Chopper's protest went unheard as the rubber boy shifted, and Franky felt the kid hoisting him up onto his back, and came to a quick stop as Luffy stepped towards the staircase, the shipwright slumped over his shoulder. "Usopp." The sniper sputtered at his name. "You know about metal stuff, right? Come on, you'll show me what to do." And he started his way up.

Franky had always known that Luffy was powerful. That was why he had agreed to build him the ship, to trust the boy with his dreams. But it wasn't until he felt just how small the captain was beneath him, dragging a cyborg twice his size up the stairs, sparks fizzling useless against rubber skin, that Franky started to realize exactly how much strength the kid had inside of him.


	15. Time Enough to Savor: Dishonor

It took a true gentleman to appreciate the subtleties of a good cup of tea. To savor the aroma, to let each and every facet of its scent and flavor absorb in and bless the senses with the full extent of the experience. Achieving such a refinement of taste was, in Mr. Frank's opinion, _supremely_ refreshing. It was only his duty to teach this skill to the younger generation.

"The key," he instructed with a small smile, "is to make each cup last as long as possible without it cooling." He took a sip, long and careful in his relishing. "A man must never ruin tea by letting it become lukewarm, my good boy. It's the most terrible of wastes."

"That's nice, Sir," mumbled Kitton from across the table, eyes slightly glazed and thumbs tumbling over one another in circles.

The self-proclaimed teacher's smile faltered, and he tapped a finger on the table. "It is proper manners to maintain eye contact with whom you speak, young man." The grin appeared again, all freshness and bright white teeth. "Come now, you'll cheer right up once you've had a cup. I do think it's steeped long enough." He popped open his chest to pull out a cup and offered it to the boy, entirely ignoring the wince of distaste as Kitton's eyes flicked from stomach to drink.

As soon as the child took the steaming drink, Mr. Frank straightened up in his chair, beaming. "Fabulous! Now, don't hold it like that, all bunched up in both hands, the handle's there for a reason. The need to hold a pinky aloft is a bit of an exaggeration, but I think it adds a nice touch to the atmosphere." He indulged in another sip.

Kitton's shoulders hunched slightly as he clutched the drink. "I like to hold it like this. My hands're cold."

A large hand swatted against Kitton's small ones in quick reprimand, impatience creeping into the calm voice. "Kindly refrain from slurring your words! You're far too good a boy for such ill-bred mumbling. The handle, if you please." The winter-born child followed instruction, startled into good posture. "Brilliant! Now then."

The poor student already seemed to be slumping in his chair, his sip taken with an expression bordering on resentful, but at least he'd taken the drink. Mr. Frank practically glowed. He had time yet to complete the education.

"Sir," Kitton tried, peering over the brim of his drink and hardly looking as appreciative of the brew as he should, "are you sure this is really the time for this?"

A small, cultured laugh. "Ah, my boy, there is always time to set aside to appreciate a good brew."

"Yes, I got that. But, back on the mountain, didn't you say you had something to get back to?"

An odd sensation thrummed in Mr. Frank's muscles, a sudden burst of tight, angry energy that rattled against unyielding metal. As the swell of need tried to push against his stomach, the sedate of good tea cut it off at the bud, unrealized. His smile only flickered an instant at the bizarre notion; a moment's peculiarity, and nothing more.

"All in good time. But for now, try breathing in the scent of it, won't you?"


	16. Along For The Ride: Waver

There was a lot of grumbling going on as the Family surveyed the groaning King Bulls laid against the Junk Island's shores. Members exchanged uncertain glances, hovering several feet away from the massive animals.

"What do you think's up with them? Are they hungry?"

"We been sharing plenty of food with them, though, I don't think that's it…"

"Maybe they need something else in their diet… hey, Bulls don't eat people, do they?"

"Wh-what? No way, I haven't heard about that, they'd have to be some Sea King subspecies to be into that…"

A miserable croak slithered from Sodom's throat, and the mumbling stilled a moment, before picking up in panicked volume.

"We never should have saved these things, who knows what sort of trouble they're up to!"

"It would be better to get rid of them now, before they attack, right?"

"Looks like they're too weak right now, we should act before they get desperate!"

"The hell are you morons babbling about?"

There was a collective jump in the gang as their boss' voice called out, turning to see Franky padding over the splintered isle, the Square Sisters trailing behind. Over his shoulder he held a large paper package, the wrapping beginning to look a bit soggy on the bottom.

Zambai stepped out ahead of the rest, encouraged by his leader's appearance. "Boss! We gotta act fast before these two things lash out and attack the crew! There's a hunger in their beady li'l eyes, it must be why they wanted to hang around us in the first place!"

Gommorah gave a whinny closely resembling the noise of a badly dented trumpet, and some of the men took steps even further back, lips curling into snarls and calls of agreement ringing out.

Franky pushed up his glasses. "You guys are some serious dumbasses, you know that?"

Zambai gawked a moment, before Franky strode past, through the invisible barrier that his boys had put between themselves and the large sea creatures, and up in front of the ailing pair. The sisters' following may have been a pace a tad slower than his, but they still followed him up all the same. Calls of despair reached after him. "Boss! You don't gotta sacrifice yerself to those things! Ahhh, I can't look!"

The thick package thudded down on the wooden shore in front of the bulls, and Franky pulled loose the string, letting free a foul stench best described as moist compost. Several Family members cringed and clapped hands to their noses, the sisters included, but Franky didn't seem to react in the slightest.

"You let your brothers get sick, and then accuse 'em of wanting you dead?" The cyborg plunged a hand into the reeking contents of the package, pulling free a slimy, thick, green weed. "They just need the right medicine, like anyone else!"

The two huge sea creatures gave snorts of distaste at the plant held before them, Gommorah pulling back slightly. Franky curled his lip. "Ungrateful little bastards. I went out of my way to get this for you hunks of seafood, you'll damn well eat it!"

The crowd behind him had gone silent due in equal parts to bafflement and not wanting that foul odor to get in their mouths, while the King Bulls moaned in refusal. Snarling, Franky took a step forward. "You think this is bad? Damn pansies, I should've known you were too weak, first getting eaten, now won't even suck it up for a little medicine! Watch!"

There were sudden shouts of awe and terror as the gang leader opened wide and tore a chunk of the soggy medicine off with his teeth. The chewing process was undeniably a slow one, and Franky's expression strained to keep an impassive snarl as he swallowed the muck. Even Sodom and Gommorah had been silenced by the display, staring at the cyborg as he choked the weed down.

The task completed, he gave a huff and kicked the package closer to the pair of ailing Bulls. "Y'see? If the followers can't keep up with their leader, they might as well die of sickness! You wanna keep on this team, then you'll prove yerself by finishing off this whole bag, y'hear me?" He turned on the rest of his team, and threw his arms into the air in pose, Kiwi and Mozu on point with the motion. "Anyone who don't trust those on your team, might as well shoot yerself now, 'cos we won't get anywhere without believin' in each other!"

Another moment of stunned silence, before the two great Bulls let out whinnies of determination, and ducked forward into the reeking package before them. A cry of hurrahs echoed up from the men, rushing to fill the distance.

"Oi—oi wait, that medicine's just for those two, you guys don't have to eat—eurgh."


	17. The Best Defense: Iron

"Get up, get up!" The gang leader dragged a sleeve over his bloodied lip, feet spread wide and pipe grasped in one hand. Franky briefly wondered if the guy was shaking from fear or exhaustion; either way, he liked the look of it. "Come on, we can't all be taken out by one freak!"

While the battered team tried to pull themselves up again, Franky sneered and rolled his hand about his wrist, the freshly oiled gears whizzing with the motion. He could get used to this sort of power. "Come on, kids," he called. "Didn't ya wanna teach me a lesson? Only thing I'm learnin' is how to suck!" He didn't need good insults, he was kicking their butts.

One man growled and ran at his opponent, bat raised high. "Get this in your head, speedo freak!"

It was generous, Franky thought, that he even bothered with the effort to lift and arm and block the attack, wood splintering against its steel-hardened target. The poor sap had an instant to gawk in bafflement before the cyborg lunged, grabbing the poor bastard by the neck and slamming him into the concrete.

More men had gotten up the nerve to follow their companion, a rush accompanied by furious yells of defiance. At least they had the smarts to attack together. There was something to work with here. "Come on, come on come on! Gimme all you got, bastards, show me how far this city's come!" His body plowed straight through them, a blur of fists. Knowing that they had no chance against his design sent surges of adrenaline through him, and his blows sent them down faster than they could even swing their weapons.

There was a sudden explosion of pain in the back of his head, and the world went blurry.

"Ha! Take that, asshole!"

Shit. When had the leader gotten behind him? It was his fault for getting too into this. A thick taste reached his tongue, a reminder of what was still under all that steel.

Franky staggered a step forward as the back street twirled before his eyes, and made a turn on the one successful attacker. He didn't need to know the loser was sneering. "Heh. Who d'you think you are, speedo dude? Don't act so big, on our street…"

See, that was why Franky didn't bother much with decent insults. It gave too much time to regain bearings; even his weak point had a quick recovery point. He leapt at the cocky scumbag, gripping the guy by his chin and hoisting him up in the air. Groans of frustration and terror rose from the fallen fighters.

"Uahh! Zambai! Who the hell is this guy?"

A manic smile rose over the taste of iron in his mouth. That was right. He couldn't trust the people in this city to defend themselves, like this. It was his responsibility.

"I'm Franky. I've decided to take over Water Seven's back streets. Nice meeting ya."


	18. Forcibly Natural: Springs

The way Ivankov was looking at him, circling around and studying Franky's body, would have been decidedly creepy for anyone else. The undisputed Queen of Trannies, known to twist the human form however he so wanted, examining the flesh much like a sculptor studies unshaped clay could hardly be construed as something most people could take pleasure in.

Franky, though, wasn't most people. Sure, he thought this guy was kind of on the weird side, but the simple fact was that someone checking his body out was inevitable. What could he say, being this smoking hot was a straight-up curse, but he'd learned to live with it. The cyborg just sneered and puffed out his chest, letting the master of hormones get as close a look as he wanted.

It was when Ivankov spoke, however, that his opinion on the matter changed.

"Hmmm, no. It simply von't do."

There was a pause, the narrowing of eyes, before Franky shook his head and pressed up his shades. "Tranny-bro, I think you got something a little confused in that fat head'a yours. This baby's geared to perfection."

There was a dismissive sniff, and Ivankov waved a hand. "It is designed zat vay. Lining your body vith steel, forcing into ze wrong shapes, I have no vay to vork vith it!"

That, Franky thought, would almost have been laughable if it weren't so insulting. "Who says you get t'work with anything, dumbass? You don't gotta modify somethin' that's already a damn paragon of awesomeness!" He crossed his arms. "Don't be all high and mighty just 'cause I got to decide what my body's like instead 'a you."

A gasp shuddered out of Iva, the man staggering back, eyes wide. "Ahhhh! Such determination! I don't know if I can stand up to zat kind of argument…!" With a click of the heels, he threw his arms into the air. "NOT! You truly must be stuck in a man's mindset to say such zings!" The transvestite curled his lip in a sneer. "A body with no give to it has no beauty! What art can be made if it is prevented from change?" He turned up his nose, a sniff of disgust. "Ahh, so many foolish men like you I've seen, rejecting zeir feminine sides, ignoring ze entirety of zeir souls! Such carelessness time and again leads zem to a hasty demise!"

A pause reigned between them, and for a moment Iva sneered in victory, the cyborg clearly having been stunned into silence by the tale of his inevitable, self-orchestrated downfall. No man who so blithely ignored his softer, womanly side could ever truly be strong!

Thoughts of gloating were stilled, however, as sniffles broke the silence, and Franky hunched over his arm, pressing back a sudden onslaught of tears. "Is that how it is? Aw man, that's suuuuuuper sad! Those poor guys, denyin' what they got on the inside! How can some poor sap live like that? Dammit, don't look at me, I'm not cryin'!"

The sudden collapse of the thickset shipwright set Ivankov's eyes bulging. What was this man, all false body with tender heart? Like nothing he'd ever seen before—someone who had broken the barrier between flesh and machine, properly? He scoffed at the thought; only the Tranny Queen could make such a clean break of identity. As if he was going to be startled by strangeness so easily!

The master of hormones kicked a leg up and gave a twirl, shooting a wink down at the sniveling man. "Do you see now? Your sameness is vhat condemns you, little boy! Stuck in your own design. Doomed to stagnancy! Vhat a shameful life you lead!

"The hell?" Franky lifted his head once more, blinking through red eyes and pulling another sniff. "You lookin' at me and calling me _the same?_" The insult seemed to have rallied him from the moment of sadness, his ensuing snort sounding rather like he intended to spit something loose. "You kidding? I jus' gotta modify it if I want any changes! Already did it once, y'know. This thing's my own masterpiece!" He flexed his arms in an impromptu art show. "Sky's the limit, bro! AOW! Can't stop creativity!"

The return of a proper debate brought a smile back to Ivankov's oversized face. "Ahh, vhat's zis? A moment of forezhought in your unmoving hulk of an unnatural body!" Ivankov waved his hands high in a flourish. "But can you really compare to an ever-changing vorld of hormones! Ze human body, so varied, do you reject it?"

The transvestite's new pose was countered by Franky's own, clasping his hands together and boxing the angles of his arms in another flex. "It's all my natural ideas, that's close enough for me! Ain't so different from your shit, tranny-bro! YEAH!"

An onlooker might have suspected the two of them were practicing some bizarre dance routine, the baring of tights and muscles and bare skin as the battle of exchanging poses raged. To be fair, it wasn't all that far off from what was happening.


	19. Perchance to Wake: Dive

The world was a haze of mixed colors and blurred lines, all smooth and warm and friendly in the dark night. Kokoro leaned back against the wall, smiling at all of it and bottle limp in her hand. This was so much better than everything else.

It had been long since she'd bothered attempting to sober up before Chimney woke in the mornings—it simply wasn't worth it to leave the warmth for the kid's sake. Not enough reason to lie to her about how Gramma spent her time. Most often, though, an effort was made to keep the drinking not too far away from home, close enough to stagger back in before the kid could wake up alone.

Kokoro didn't always manage to reign in where her unthinking fins took her, as was the result tonight, having found her way to an unfamiliar corner of this eternally changing city. She probably could have figured out where it was, years spent in these streets, but right now she was enjoying the feeling of disconnect, this gritty stretch of concrete a nice moment of refuge from everything she knew.

In the late night, few passed and even less took note of yet another red-faced drunk on the sidewalk, which the old mermaid suspected was best for everyone. Who really wanted to be noticed around here? Those few that even took note of her hiccupping laughter were only sneering thugs that shook their heads in amusement as they went off to their sordid behavior. Bleary eyes followed them, lids heavy while she wondered what crime they were off to.

"Iz… izzis whachoo wanted, Tom?" She shifted against the wall, before realizing the thought had actually been said aloud. With a grunt, she decided to roll with the idea of speaking up. "'Zis what ya… whacha had in mind, here, huh?" She called it out into the empty street, words echoing against water and alley, unheard. A long moment's pause, before she settled down again, raising the bottle to her lips, mumbling into the liquid sloshing within. "Hah… nah, you… you would say somefin' like… like it'd all work ou' in time, wun'cha?" A chuckle bubbled down into her drink. "An'… an' then you'd laugh."

Giggles made their way past the bottle's neck, filling up the space around her, the sound of her laughter lopsided. It skimmed over the water and bounced of building walls and down alleyways, warm and bright like this nice, fuzzy evening.

The merriment was attracting attention, she realized, one person even stopping nearby to stare. Let him marvel at her, she figured, was it so wrong for someone to be in a good mood around here?

Her onlooker stepped closer, and Kokoro settled down to softer chortling as a long set of legs stopped by her. Maybe he was drunk too; he'd forgotten his pants. There was a time that would have bothered her. Now, it was just funny.

"Oi, old lady. What you doin' out here?"

Baring pointed teeth in a crooked smile, she tried to find her way up to looking at the man before her, but he was too tall, and it was too dizzy up there. Too dizzy up there… that didn't make any sense at all! She began laughing anew.

"Ngahahaha! Wha's it look like, boy, you think… think I'm so old I can't enjoy a drink inna moonligh'?" She waved her free hand at something. Maybe it was him, but it was just as likely at anything else. "What else'd I be ou' here for, hah? Ngahaha! You wann' join meh? Got… got plenny a' booze left, 's good t'share! More'a merrier, ngahahaha!"

The bare legs, all she could really make out from this angle on the wall, stood stiff in front of her. She took the pause as an opportunity for another swig from her bottle. "Cummon, buddy! 'Sa great night fer a little comp'ny an' a good drink!"

Up above the legs, a thick and unfamiliar figure leaned down, casting her into shadow. She blinked up at him again while a bulging arm reached over and behind her. "C'mon, granny, less' get you home."

For just a moment, the feeling of too-thick fingers against her back reminded her of something, from so long ago, but no, he had no webs. She chuckled again. "Ahh, boy, you sayin' you know better'n this ol' sack a' bones? Ngahahaha! Ah'm havin' a good tahm 'ere!"

"Yeah, yeah, just get yer flabby ass up, crazy bat. Where you livin' at now?" The thick hand pulled her up, but careful, gentle in the movement. His voice reminded her of another someone, all different from those hands, all harsh words that meant nothing in the end. Maybe she had been drinking too much, after all. The smile drifted a moment, and she let herself be stood up.

For all the blurring the world did, she stood easy on her own two fins, nimbly whipping a step out of his reach when he held out that strange, thick arm to support her. Now that she was thinking about it, she probably did know this area, the way back home floating up through her consciousness while she giggled at him. "Haaa, izzat any way t'… t' talk to a lady? Make yerself look suspishis, takin' away a fine young thing like me at nigh'! Ngaaahahahaha!"

An apparent shudder ran through the bulky man at the idea of it, though his voice held as much bored venom as before. "Listen, you want me t'take you home or not, hag? I don't gotta be wastin' my time on drunks like you!"

So familiar, but so, so different. Why was it funny? Well, she didn't need a reason to keep laughing, did she? Kokoro's head bobbed about as she swished her bottle up high, and started walking off in the direction she figured must be close enough to how to get home. "I dun' need help, but if y'want, you c'n be mah stalker…!"

"Dammit, crazy witch!" But it meant nothing, and he followed a step behind her, hovering, twitching a hair every time her balance went off. A bad-mouthed brat with no manners, who did what he wanted. Respecting his elders while he called them bad names. He hadn't changed…

There was that thought again, and she laughed, glancing back while knocking back another gulp. She was being stupid, comparing this big hulk to that ghost. They were nothing alike, him all bulges where once there had been lean muscle. But in the moonlight, his hair looked the right color. Was it just the blur of her booze that made his shirt look so colorful? He carried himself too heavy for someone drunken enough to lose their trousers.

He did a lot of mumbling as they walked, and her a lot of laughing at these strange ideas, but there was nothing more said to one another. She thought she heard him start a word to her once or twice, cut off and forgotten before the meaning could get out. How weird people could be. Her included. This was hilarious. It called for another swig.

The nearer they got to the station, the more certain she became this was a dream, something silly and to be forgotten when she woke up, and there, the pink on the horizon, it was almost over. She couldn't be sure exactly how grateful she was for it, or wasn't at all, but the drink kept her warm either way.

"Haaa, there w'go. I'm good, boy, don' need ya peepin' in on me in bed, geddoutta here, woulja?" She beamed, cheeks burning dull red and eyelids drooping heavy. "Y'got bedder things t'do than follow me, doncha, huh? Up all nigh', g'wan, mus' be tired followin' me around."

She sneered around the bottle as she suckled the last drops from the neck, and in the dim light growing in the sky, she could finally see his details, the lines of his face and his eyes that watched her, narrowed. No, no, this man looked nothing like that ghost. But for his eyes.

"Shit, you better believe walking your drunken ass home's tiring. Don't go causing problems for other people, saggy old bat." His lip curled just so, baring his gums in that way, his arms folding one over the other exactly in that manner, posture slumped perfectly right.

There wasn't any booze left in the bottle, so she pulled it away from her mouth, still grinning at him. She just smiled for a long moment, and he went a little tense all over. And she laughed again. What a dream this was.

Her back turned against the ghost, empty bottle still swinging by her side as she waved her hand and walked back home. "G'wan, you stubborn little brat, get outta here. Before y'get yerself in trouble."


	20. Liven Things Up: String

Chopper cheered on and Usopp whooped in approval, while Luffy and Brook joined in for Franky's latest dance recital, performed entirely off the cuff and more or less inspired by Chopper asking Franky if he wanted to help them do some fishing. How they had gotten from one point to the next wasn't clear, but they could all readily agree that it didn't really matter much.

"AWWWRIGHT! A jump to the left now! Yeah! Now, step back to the right! Superrrrr!"

"Ahh yes, yes, I've got it!" Brook crowed, thrilled by his own apparent dancing prowess.

"YEAH! SUPER!" Luffy agreed, throwing his hands up in the air as he imitated the larger crewmates.

Across the deck, the four remaining crewmates seemed for the most part to be avidly ignoring the tomfoolery of their crew, with Nami shooting them small frowns of irritation and Sanji shrieking over that they should stop bothering her, while Zoro snored loudly against the rail. Nico Robin watched with that smallest of smiles.

After an excited minute of prancing about, Luffy finally seemed to notice their spectator, and he waved his arms overhead with vigor. "OIIIIII! ROBIN! COME AND JOIN US!"

Franky's grin turned a tad wry as he tried to imagine the woman allowing herself to join in with their festivities. After all, the party pooper wouldn't even join together to make a robot.

The archaeologist, though, just gave a small chuckle. "Thank you for the invitation, Captain. But I'm afraid that's not my style of dance so much."

"Ahh, but Miss Robin," Brook chimed in, scrawny limbs all a-flailing as he kept up the celebration of something or other, "Mister Franky has done a lovely job teaching us the steps! You could learn it so easily!"

"Yeah, yeah!" Chopper was joining in, while Usopp apparently had started laughing at the idea of it.

Franky shook his head, still smirking. "Hey, if the crotchety old lady doesn't want to learn some super moves, that's her loss, right fellas?" A cheer rang up from the others, whooping their lighthearted teases.

However, the shipwright stopped laughing when he realized Robin had stood up from her distant seat, crossing the distance of the deck with a few smooth, casual movements and stilling the festivities from surprise.

She held out a hand to Franky. "Well then. Perhaps you could teach me a few steps? Something a tad more… composed, I'd prefer."

Brook made a gasping noise that rattled through his ribs, and Franky blinked at her before Luffy started laughing. "Yeah! Go on Franky, teach her something awesome! That one you showed us last week, with the butt wiggling!"

Robin's casual smile flashed, and Franky reached out to smack Luffy upside the head. "'Aight, Nico Robin. I got a tango up my sleeve." He took her hand.

Suddenly, she laced her fingers around his, and deftly tied something around his pointer finger. He blinked down at the sudden piece of string that had been wrapped about it, before glancing back up at the dark-haired woman. She continued smiling.

"Another time, where we can practice with less of a crowd. Don't forget." And she stalked away, back to her book.

Franky gaped after her a moment, but before he could think of much to say, Usopp started laughing again, and Luffy whooped with excitement anew. "Oh man, this is gonna be awesome! Are you guys gonna put on a performance for us? Come on, Franky, I wanna see you guys dance together!"

"My, Mister Franky, she certainly must want to learn, if she made sure you won't forget about it! But yohohoho, who doesn't love a good dance?"

After a moment, the big cyborg broke into a grin anew. "Yeah, who doesn't? Come on, guys! Let's have another dance in celebration of getting the old lady to do something fun! Come on, hands on your hips, let's go!" They started up again, Usopp joining in on their steps as Franky called out a decidedly energetic routine, and Robin chuckled to herself as she sat down with her book once more.


	21. Dust Buster: Dial

The Y chromosome, Nami, suspected, was nature's way of reminding everyone just how much of a difference could be made by one tiny little thing. She wasn't sure what it was about men and their aversion to cleaning, but a girl could only turn a blind eye up until she had to also start turning a blind nose. Making quite a show of wrinkling her nose in disgust and waving the stink away, she set out to find whichever unlucky man happened to be in her path.

Franky, unfortunately, just happened to be sanding out a rail recently ravaged by Luffy's antics, and failed to notice the navigator's eyes on him until it was too late.

"Franky. Come here."

"Eh? What's the problem, Girlie?"

She only frowned, beckoning him back over towards the men's quarters. "You have work to take care of. I can't believe you let this place fall into such disrepair."

"Ehh?" The big man stalked over, peeking in through the door. "Oh. Yeah, me and the guys just like things a little more grunge, y'know?"

Nami huffed, hand over her nose. "I don't care how you and 'the guys' like it, it's disgusting, and I want you to have it clean immediately."

The shipwright shrugged, turning away. "Alright, whatever, good to make sure there's no mold in the boards…"

"And where do you think you're going? I need this cleaned up now!"

He scowled. "Relax, Girlie, I'm gettin' some soap is all—"

"You don't need it." She pointed at his arms. "Just suck it all up and be done with it, before Luffy's old meat bones come out and start attacking us!"

There was a long moment where Franky stared at her, processing what she was saying, before breaking into a harsh glare and stomping a foot. "The Coup de Vent ain't a goddamn vacuum cleaner!"

"Lazy! You wouldn't get me the Coup de Burst in that storm, and now you won't even help with—" 

"I GOT HIT BY LIGHTNING!"

"You wouldn't have if you'd been faster, now would you?"

"I—bhh—"

Nami had already turned away, arms crossed in dismissal. "If you've got time to argue, you've got time to clean. I expect it finished in ten minutes, or I'll take it out of your cola funds!"

Franky gaped after her, trying to think of a proper argument, before growling and pulling out the pipe to link up the Vent. If his systems got clogged with someone's underwear, though, Nami wouldn't be the only one making people pay.


	22. Fantasy AU Part 1: Warrior

The Enies Wood was not one known for its pleasant and calm inhabitants, more often accused of housing violent and unholy creatures than praised as anywhere worth going on a walk. Many accused Flam of having gone mad himself, not only living at the forest's edge but travelling into it and off the safe pathway, but the simple fact, as he saw it, was that a carpenter was unable to practice his craft much at all without fetching some wood.

That, however, failed to give any excuse for whatever else it might be that he now heard, the sound of rustling foliage clear behind him, and closing distance. The woodsman put his back to the tree he'd been working on, axe grasped tight and at the ready.

"Who's out there!" The sound came to a stop as his voice rang out, and he narrowed his eyes. "Don't you try sneaking up on me, bastard, I ain't in the mood to deal with this!"

There was a stretch of silence, broken only by wind rustling through the branches of the wood, and Flam reflected that maybe it would have been wiser to keep quiet and hope to be passed by, but that was what the axe was for anyway.

Finally, the sound of footsteps in the brush resumed, and a shadowed figure stepped into view; dressed in a cloak and a hood pulled high, but the shape was unmistakably that of a woman, and a curvy one at that. The woodsman had a moment of conflict, his teeth gritted in mental debate; the fair folk had the tendency to appear as human. To try and talk with them was a recipe for disaster, but he couldn't well turn his back on the woman who now had her dark eyes set on him. He decided on giving her another snarl, grasping his weapon tighter. "Yeah? Whatcha want, then?"

The figure paused a moment, watching him, before glancing back through the branches from where she'd appeared. Appearing to compose herself, the woman put on a soft smile and looked to him again. "By any chance, would you have a place for me to stay the night? I've gotten a bit lost."

There was something peculiarly calm in that question, but her breath was heavy, as if she'd been running. Flam frowned. "Lost, huh. There a reason you ditched the safe path?"

She kept quiet a moment, still with that vague smile, before shrugging. "There's something enthralling about wandering through a dangerous area, isn't it? The thought that no one could save you if something were to happen… It gives a bit of adrenaline, doesn't it?"

Okay, this lady was creepy in a way totally different than any fairy he'd ever met. Lowering his axe slightly, Flam gave the stranger a harder look. Her dark hair under the cloak was tangled in places, her high boots worn and caked with mud, her frame thin in spite of the curves. If she was eager enough to get off the path even in that condition, she must have been desperate. Flam's attention darted back up to her face as he made his guess. "So, did you do it?"

The implication in the question might have been a jump in logic on his part, but her flinch confirmed it. Of course only a criminal would be desperate enough to run in here. It was her answer, however, that proved interesting—or rather, her lack of one. Her gaze fixed on him, steady and quiet, but nothing said. Flam raised an eyebrow, before slinging his axe back over his shoulder. "'Aight, well, I'm gettin' out of here." He gave the tree, cut only a third of the way through, a small frown, before turning his back. "Dun' care where you go." He got a good few feet before the woman seemed to catch his meaning, and she fell in step behind him. Nothing more was said, not so much as a word of thanks on her part. What a jerk.

But, at least it wasn't a long silence to bear until they emerged from the trees, their thinning revealing a small but sturdy shack just by the wood's edge. A bit to the east, though, a path could be seen winding its way from the wood, making a clear and even route to a bustling city, gathered around a lakeshore. The waters of Lake Seben glittered under near-evening sunlight, and the city sharing its name appeared to still have enough activity in its streets for the distant sound of life to drift all the way over to the forest's edge.

Flam had no need to make his way over to the path, though, beelining to the cottage. Beside the small building was a workspace, where a cord of wood had piled high by one wall, the ground littered with sawdust and woodchips. A saw leaned against the wood pile, and a large cannon sat facing the woods.

The woman paused as they grew near. "I took you for a woodsman, not a warrior."

That earned her a grin tossed over his shoulder. "Who says I gotta be one thing, lady? I'm anything I wanna be! You feel me?"

There was another pause, before a light chuckle. "I suppose so, Mr. Warrior."

He raised his eyebrow at her, before shrugging and making his way to the door and leaving it open behind him. The woman appeared in the doorway a moment later, brow arched.

"May I come in?"

"I dunno. Can you?"

She blinked at the question, before smiling again. "You doubt me, Mr. Warrior?" Flam crossed his arms, and she closed her eyes and took a step inside, slowly, as if relishing the moment. Once inside, the woman looked to him and nodded. "Well, I hope making an intruder of me has satisfied you."

Flam raised his eyebrow, before shrugging and setting his axe against the wall. If she could enter a house uninvited, she must have been human, which at least meant she wasn't out for his soul or anything like that. Without giving her any particular answer, he started digging through the cabinets; it had been a bit since he'd last gone to market, he was starting to note, and he poked at a squishy-looking plum hidden in a drawer.

"You're very strange," the woman's voice called to him from behind. "Inviting a stranger who very well may be a criminal into your home, without any effort to protect yourself or even asking questions. You don't seem particularly bright."

Flam frowned at his stash of salted pork and looked back at the visitor. "Hey hey, what's with the bad attitude? Just 'cause I ain't nosing around in the business of someone desperate, you wanna be a bitch about it? You ain't asked any questions about me, either, so there's no point in getting' greedy, is there?"

The woman's brow arched, before she gave him that small smile. "Hmm. Perhaps to call you dim is a bit much. Does 'trusting' fit better?" Flam shrugged, and fished out a bag of potatoes. "But you do seem awfully content with the idea of letting a stranger in your home. Are you a lonely man, Mr. Warrior?"

He didn't like that, and didn't dignify the question with the glare he wanted to give it. "I dunno. You were the one who threw yerself at some random dude in the woods. Are you?"

There was a pause as he started chopping the potatoes, before the woman laughed. "You're certainly an interesting company to keep."

Flam bore a harsh grin. "Oh, you better believe it."

Things were left there, and he began whistling loudly, rapping his foot to the beat as she paced around the room, hand hovering over the walls and studying them intently. A series of mostly-edible ingredients were chopped up and thrown in an oversized pot before he heard the woman take a small, sharp breath.

He glanced back, and found she was watching the door, tense. Flam raised an eyebrow, just as a knock sounded out. There was a pause as he eyed the door, back to the woman, who was returning in kind. Then another knock.

"Franky! I need to talk to you."

The woodsman winced, pacing to the door, while the woman shifted to an angle that couldn't be seen from the door. He cracked the door open to scowl at the shorter, dark-haired man who stood outside with arms crossed. "The hell you want, Iceberg?"

"Let me in."

Flam could feel the woman's eyes on him. "You wanna talk, we can do it right here."

"This is important."

"Then stop wastin' my time and tell me, dumbass."

Iceberg's mouth pressed thin. "There are a couple men in town. On business from the church."

Flam scowled, before picking up the wooden pail he left by the door and stepping outside. "Walk an' talk."

The elder man kept pace as Flam led the way over to the old water pump. "They came off the path from the forest less than an hour ago. They're on official business, Franky—looking for a witch." Iceberg looked back towards the Enies as Flam worked the pump handle. "She's been running from them for days, they chased her into the forest before losing her trail."

There was a conscious decision not to glance back towards his house. "Yeah?"

Iceberg gave a tight sigh. "You shouldn't keep living so far from town with someone so dangerous around. It's too risky. You need to be in town, where they can't get to you."

Flam straightened up, a good head taller than Iceberg. "We ain't goin' over this again. If any of those spooks were gonna scare me, I'd've run off like you years ago."

There was a hard stare between the two of them, before Iceberg shook his head. "Be careful. The men in town… I don't like the looks of them."

"Yeah, I'm real scared of some holy types." He hefted up the filled water pail. "You go hide on some less cursed spot, all right? I got it covered."

Without waiting for an answer, he turned back to the shack. Iceberg grabbed his arm.

"She goes by the name Robin."

A pause. "All right."

The two of them walked in opposite directions, Iceberg moving quickly back to the thin dirt path to Seben, Flam back towards the cabin, taking his time to assure the older man would be a bit of a distance off before he opened the door.

The blade of his axe pressed up against his neck.


	23. Fantasy AU Part 2: Pumpkin

Flam sent a sidelong glance at the woman holding the blade to his throat, eyes narrowed but otherwise still.

"It's as I said earlier, Mr. Warrior," she murmured. "You are far too trusting."

He jutted out his jaw in defiance. "Some super appreciation you're showing for my hospitality, lady."

She wore that smile again, small and polite, but much cooler now in the dying light of dusk. "I broke in. You make every effort to keep me from being a true guest. I'm under no obligation to act as one."

She had a point, except for he really doubted there would have been much difference either way. "Still. Rude as hell." Flam curled a lip. "Lady, I'm in no goddamn mood. You don't threaten me on my own turf. Got it?"

There was a pause as she watched him, eyes narrowed, before she glanced down at the bucket of water in his hand. That was all he really needed.

His other hand slipped up, reaching up and grabbing the blade of the axe, twisting it out of her grip, quick and easy. Dropping the bucket, he flipped the weapon around and quite quickly had the situation turned around, her neck against the axe and him giving a hard smile.

"Got it?" he repeated.

The woman had gone tense, her arms brought up in some sort of defensive cross before her, lips twitching with words she wasn't quite saying aloud.

Now, Flam was rather tempted to make good on this threat, what with the bleeding cut in his hand, the attack on his good faith, and the water spilled over his floor and trousers all combining to put him in a really bothered mood. He had no reason to let up on this woman; she'd been suspicious from the start, and on top of confirming those suspicions, she might be a witch.

He gritted his teeth and stepped in through the door, axe held steady as he cleared the way. "I think you're gonna want to find somewhere else to spend the night."

The twitching in her mouth stopped. "What?"

"You get the hell out of my house is what."

She stared, before taking a few steps toward the door. He didn't stop her. "You really are too trusting, Mr. Franky."

He sneered at her use of the nickname. "I'm trusting you to keep whatever trouble you're in off my property."

Another pause, before that quiet, dark smile of hers, and she vanished out the door, into the darkening evening.

There was a long few minutes as Flam waited for something—he didn't really know what—to happen, poised in front of the door with his axe at the ready. But after a few minutes of nothing happening, he started feeling slightly annoyed and stupid, defensive against nothing. With a huff, the lumberjack stripped off his soaked pants and picked up his fallen pail. Dinner wouldn't make itself.

Still trouserless, Flam went about getting a new bucket of water to fill, setting it to boil, finishing off the preparations for his dinner. Just like that, things were back to normal.

It was as he was thinking this, waiting for his meal to be ready, that there was a loud thump at the door, followed by muffled cussing through the wood. Flam tensed, and through the door, he could hear snarling.

"—stuck, and now I have to try and… why couldn't you handle it, you useless piece of—"

There was a quiet growl of another voice back, now, and Flam reached the door, grabbing up his axe again, and yanked it open. A sword was protruding from the wood, and a scrawny, pale little man stood in front, beady eyes gone wide with the apparent unexpected arrival of an inhabitant. Just behind him, Flam caught sight of a bulky figure stepping into the shadows of the night, away from the glow of the open door.

The lumberjack glared down at the little man. "The hell're you doing to my door, asshole?"

There was a pause, before the man drew himself up, looking entirely indignant, and spat, "What are you doing here?"

"I live here, jackass!" He pointed his axe at the man's face, causing the stranger to balk and stagger back a step. "Get the hell off my property, before I show you the proper way to slice somethin' up!"

The little man gaped, eyes on the axe, before straightening up and putting on a sneer. "Ha! Haha. You'd best put that thing aside! You don't realize you're dealing with the church's highest-level hunter!" With his free hand, he reached into his cloak and pulled out a golden cross, embossed with what Flam could only assume to be all manner of holy scribbles and symbols and whatnot. The intruder gave a sniff. "I happen to be on a top-priority witch hunt, you know! She's been here, hasn't she? You'd best cooperate with me, for the good of the people!"

"You tried to slice my goddamn door down. I don't care what sorta business you're on, get outta my goddamn sight."

A moment stretched, empty, as the words seemed to sink in, and the scrawny man's jaw dropped. "I—did you not hear me, fool? I'm Spandam, of the church's highest order! You have to do what I say! Now tell me where the witch is!"

"Never heard of you, never heard nothin' bout any witches. Quit makin' me repeat myself, Spana."

"SpanDAM! My name is Spandam! I…I could string you up for such blasphemy!"

An empty grin spread over Flam's face. "Try it. Yer fancy religious talk won't mean much in a fight." He gripped his axe in both hands, and took a step to make sure he was between this jerk, and the sword embedded in his door.

"Y-you… that woman, she's made a deal with the devils, you know! I know for a fact she's been here, I've been tracking her for longer than you know! I don't know what lies you got fed, but she's an abomination on this earth." Something began to boil in Flam's gut. That obnoxious grin came back on Spandam's face, haughty as anything he'd ever seen. "Her soul is lost, and until I bring her down, she'll decay the very earth she walks on. It's only natural that she might have bewitched yoaaAUGH!" Spandam leapt back as Flam lashed out with his axe.

"I told you I don't want any of your preaching! You get the hell o—ngh!"

There was the crack of splintering wood as Flam suddenly found himself pinned, his back to the wall by the door, a firm hand around his neck keeping him there.

"Foolish," growled a voice, far deeper than Spandam's, and dripping with something darker than the deepening evening. The woodsman tried to look over to see the one who had him by the neck, someone surprisingly lean in spite of the death grip, but little more than shadows in the murk of the night. Flam whipped his axe at the arm pinning him, but the man grabbed it, wrenched the weapon from his grip, and tossed it aside, far out of reach by the workshop.

There was a huff from Spandam, quickly recovering from the attack. "You should have stepped in sooner! This madman's clearly been enchanted by a curse of hers. He must be totally mad, to lash out at a holy hunter!" Flam gurgled a growl, and the grip around his neck twitched tighter. He could feel pointed nails digging into his skin.

"The presence of the damned is thick here," breathed the voice of the one holding him. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, Flam slowly got a better look at his attacker—and a cold feeling sank into his stomach. The muscles bulged in a way that looked as if they were supposed to be on an entirely different animal, hulking and hunchbacked.

Spandam, meanwhile, had headed back to the door, and was prying the sword loose from the wood. "Feh. If she's left, already, then we don't need to waste time here."

"It's thicker than just that girl. He's hosted them before." The demon leaned in. "What sort of housemates do you keep, boy?"

Flam threw a punch into the creature's face, only to have his fist caught by the other hand. The sheer power of the grip around his fist made Flam gasp for breath anew. Were he not suddenly feeling as though his bones were near snapping point, he might have been grateful that this crushing grasp wasn't being used on his neck.

"What are you doing, playing with him!" Spandam was screeching off to the side. "Just kill him, kill him and be done with it!"

"We can't yet." A smile, seeping with a dark, cold humor, crept onto the man's face, and Flam caught sight of a mouthful of pointed teeth. "He saw the woman. We need to know where she is."

The hold around his neck loosed, and Flam managed to get a full breath of air, before snarling out, "I don't know anything about any witches, you god damned freaks!" Again he lunged at the fanged man, his free fist rushing in at the gut in spite of the lack of balance from his grasped hand.

The punch met abs with a meaty thud, but the man holding him didn't flinch in the slightest. "You humans, all the same." Before Flam could react, the pressure came down on his held hand again, and a yell was choked down to a desperate grunt of pain when something snapped. "So weak."

"Lucci! Would you get it over with! He's a simpleton, he knows nothing!" There was a _twang_ as the sword finally came loose. "Let the fool bathe in flames, like he deserves."

The demon pressed in close, still gripping his arm tight. "I can make it a quick one, if you just let us know where the witch went."

The image of Robin crept into Flam's mind, the desperation and fury in her eyes as she had held his axe up against him. He could blame her for all this. It would have been easy to blame her for it all. What had he done, to earn any of this?

But, with the snarling smile of a demon in front of him, Flam couldn't find a shred of hate for the woman who had led the pair here. If anything, it made him wish for her to get as far away as she could.

"Burn in hell," he spat.

Lucci's smile grew, and an excruciating yank pulled Flam off his feet and around, and suddenly he was flying through the air. And then he was flying through wood, and he wasn't entirely sure what happened after that, while his vision blurred with stars and began swirling into something dark.

It took a surge of effort to fend off the dimming senses—he couldn't let that happen, not now, not here, as he sat up and recognized that he'd been thrown clean through the wall of his home, wooden debris scattered all over the room, furniture pushed and overturned by his passing through. And, he realized after a reeling, painful attempt to clear his senses, the fire left from the stove had been jolted by the blast, sparks scattered from the hearth and finding all too much tinder to feed a growing flame.

The facts stumbled around in Flam's mind a moment, struggling to come to realize the full issue of the situation. His house was in the process of burning down, there was a demon outside who was trying to kill him, he was pretty sure he had at least a cracked rib or two along with his broken hand.

And, as he pulled himself up to try and stomp out the flames, a furious shriek ripped through the air, and Spandam stepped in though the ruined wall, sword held at the ready and wearing a manic smile. "You see what you get now, fool? All who stand against the church shall meet their end in flames!"

He began cackling again, high-pitched and wild while the flames started to spread. With an impatient snarl, Flam balled a fist and brought it into the hunter's laughing face. Spandam choked out a startled yell, clutching at his nose while Flam dodged around him, stomping at flames that were quickly becoming too high to smother. The effort quickly seemed to be proving futile, and Flam gritted his teeth against the heat, and heard another scream of fury behind him. He threw himself to the side as Spandam swung his sword forward, the hunter's expression one of pure rage and disgust, burbling something again about defiance and burning and foolishness and all that.

As Flam backed away from the flames and the enraged hunter, he felt something hit against his foot—a glance down revealed it as his axe, dropped during his flight back inside. Dodging another swipe from Spandam, Flam ducked down to snatch up his makeshift weapon, and brandished it against the raging hunter.

The moment his prey gained a manner to defend himself, however, appeared to cow Spandam, who backed up, and seemed for the first time to realize just how high the flames were starting to rise by him. Blurting a noise resembling some cross between goose and swine, the hunter leapt away from the fire, embers just catching at the end of his cloak. Spandam backed to the splintered doorway, breathing hard with blood dribbling from his nose but still with a flash of that unhinged smile. "You can't hide away in that filthy wreck forever! Come out, fight us, or let yourself die in the flames of your stupidity!"

Flam felt the heat rising higher, the smell of ash joining the air with burned stew, and he held back a retort about Spandam's own passion for hiding behind protection. But with flames licking up the walls beyond his control, the fact was simple; die cowering like a bastard, or go out fighting, trying to take down this bastard like he damn well deserved. It was impossible to say where exactly Lucci was lurking out there, waiting for the woodsman to appear from the rapidly diminishing safety of a home he'd cared for nearly the whole of his life, but it wasn't as if he would give the bastard the satisfaction of seeing him run away.

The heat was becoming unbearable, and as it became ever clearer that he had no time left to stall any further, one more idea came to mind. Whipping around, he looked to the blaze and grabbed up a scrap of burning degree in his broken hand, the heat raging against his already-throbbing hand, and he bolted for the wall. He'd have one shot at this.

Spandam was shouting something, maybe at him, maybe at Lucci, but Flam was blocking out the sound, the pain, the heat, and just made himself plow through the wall on the side of the workspace, wall weakened by the blows to structure. Coughing through ash and dust, Flam rolled out of the debris of the second ruined wall, hes eyes set on the cannon he had in the sawdust-strewn workspace, gleaming now in the firelight. Surging forward, he could just get within reach, axe whipping out to cut down the fuse , but before he could get close enough to do the rest, there was a yank as someone grasped at his tunic.

"Running now, are you?" Flam didn't care to discern if there was any humor in Lucci's tone, sick amusement or otherwise. Instead, with a growl, he tossed the burning scrap at the cannon, and felt a sweet moment of victory to see it catch light. "Just what do you think you can accomplish, with such mindless flailing?" Flam felt a mad grin grow on his face; the demon wasn't even paying attention. That was his problem, then.

With a quick motion, a duck and a twist of the arms, Flam squirmed out of his shirt and free of the demon's grasp, for just a moment, long enough to throw himself forward and put all his weight into lunging and turning the cannon to face Lucci. "Just wanna go out with a bang, is all."

Lucci's expression flickered with a moment of surprise as the fuse reached its end and the cannon roared its explosive battlecry, steel orb catching the demon full in the chest and the backblow of the weapon knocking Flam off his feet, wheezing on the ground.

Part of him couldn't believe that had worked. Another part decided it was far too awesome for him to care.

There was a yell, a shadow, and searing pain in his chest. Flam twitched, and realized quite suddenly there was a sword sticking out of his chest, and Spandam standing over him, expression contorted into something beyond easy recognition. The woodsman's vision blurred in and out, and he felt himself cough up something thick. Okay. Maybe he'd let himself get a little too content with that fluke off a victory.

Spandam was once again rambling about something, but his ears weren't quite working, and he doubted he was really missing much with this guy.

More interesting, he noted, was the leaden feeling creeping over his chest, cold and clammy spreading out from his wound, a strange numbness rather unlike anything he'd known before. It was far more peculiar a notion than he'd expected to come with dying, but he couldn't complain, right? After all, it was making the pain stop.

However, as the cold, numb feeling spread out around his chest, and slowly made its way over his limbs, his senses were becoming curiously clearer, the lack of feeling almost bracing as it washed over him, clearing out weariness and exhaustion, the deafening throb of his heart in his ears quieting while Spandam's speech—became clearer.

"—on earth is—how? How! This can't be, you must be—!"

The clamminess was inching its way over his throat, and Flam choked on it, a sudden heaviness that came through, and he finally had the state of mind to look down again, faced with the most bizarre sight all day, truly an accomplishment all around.

Spandam's sword appeared to be melting down into the wound, steel wrapped over his bare chest and gleaming in the glow of his house in flames. The hunter himself was screaming as he tried to pull his weapon free, but the blade only sunk deeper down, apparently molten metal dripping down his legs and arms, and now, he felt, up over his chin.

As Flam's jaw fell in more bewilderment than horror, he could feel the steel spread down his throat and continue its way up his face. He rolled quite suddenly, startling the hilt out of Spandam's frantic grasp, but as Flam tried to claw the metal off him, wipe it, anything, he found the place where metal met skin imperceptibly smooth, almost natural, and changing at each moment as the steel closed in over his fingers and climbed up his nose.

The sword had nearly sunk in to his base, and the moment of confusion and terror took a sudden backseat to the realization that, with the pain and exhaustion pushed aside by unfeeling, cold steel, Flam suddenly was feeling extremely powerful.

He turned back to set a gaze on Spandam with literally new eyes, the hunter's jaw slack with horror. Flam rose on heavy legs, and the last of that cold notion came over the top of his scalp, the leather shell of a hilt falling useless to the ground.

"Y-you," Spandam was gasping, a hand held up as he staggered back, "you're a d-dem—by the holy power of God, I command you—I'm ordering you to-! Don't come any closer! Don't!"

Flam stepped forward, flashing a smile as sharp as a blade as he closed the space between them, and punched in Spandam's gaunt, screaming face, relishing in the feeling of bones surrendering under his steel-clad fingers.

The force literally sent the hunter flying back several feet, in an unconscious bloody heap, and Flam stared after his victim with a dark, angry smile. He only had a moment to relish in it, though, before looking at his home—flame having taken over perhaps half the building, now, heat roaring against him, and the adrenaline of all that happened reworked itself from excitement to fear.

"Shit—shit, I gotta—I need to—dammit!" What, was he supposed to look for water? He tried to step closer to find if there was anything salvageable, but the heat seared through him, steel against a forge, and Flam staggered back again, gaping between his burning home and his gleaming hands, lit by the flame. "How the hell… what the hell…!"

"I'm sorry."

He whipped around, and there stood that woman, still somehow appearing to be wrapped in shadow in spite of the bright blaze before her. She wasn't even looking at him, at his strange silvered body, or at his burning home—all her attention had been turned to the unconscious, bloody heap of the witch hunter, lying yards away. Flam snarled. "You. The hell'd you do, witch?"

The woman's eyes seemed to glow orange in the light, and her expression had gone blank instead of her usual smile. "You have every reason to hate me for this." She looked past him, to the unmoving form of Spandam, feet away. "But usually people earn their death by my hand. It wasn't right."

"Wasn't ri—dammit, this sure as shit isn't right, either! You want to fix shit for me, gimme back my meat and fix my damn house!"

She finally glanced over. "It was a hasty curse. I was only able to use what was there to seal the wound." She wasn't looking him in the eye; rather, her gaze was focused in on his gut, where he'd been cut. It suddenly occurred to Flam that, on top of being some sort of metal freak, he was also wearing nothing but his underpants. "To undo the curse would return you to your previous state."

He waited a long moment, waiting for her to tell him why the hell he should care, because clearly that was what he wanted, before implications began to sink in. "You… you mean… No, no, that ain't fair, that ain't how magic's s'posed to work! Jus' wave your hands and fix it!"

But Robin had looked away again, now into the woods. "We cannot stay here. The demon will return to his master."

Flam gritted his teeth. Of course, Lucci wouldn't have been taken out by that. "There's gotta be somethin' you can do."

"I doubt it. But perhaps." She looked back to him. "It would take time, and research. Time I don't really have time to waste here." The witch fell silent for a long few seconds. "People from the town will be investigating. If you do not intend to be seen like this, we should move."

Flam growled. "I can't leave."

"Then you will remain like this." Already, Robin had turned, and was stalking away, leaving Flam to switch between staring at her back, the blazing remains of his home, and the lights of the town in the distance. He couldn't just leave. Even if he'd been changed, he couldn't simply turn his back. Couldn't he find some sort of way to defend the city from the people who lived in Enies Wood, like this? There had to be options. But the only person who knew what those options were, was walking away.

"Oi," he called, and Robin stopped, without turning. "Why'd you come back an' do this to me?"

The witch looked back. "A warrior shouldn't have to die in someone else's fight, Mr. Franky."

He huffed. She still didn't know his name, even after all this. "Damn, you got no idea why you did it. You made that up right now, didn't you." She smiled, and he looked down. "'Sides, you just made it so now I'm part of your fight." Flam clenched a gleaming fist. "Fine, then. I'll be your warrior for now."

"A knight of the damned," she murmured. And then she began walking again.

Flam took one last look at the flames, heat radiating through him, his life going up in smoke. And then he turned and ran after her.


	24. Permissed: Clouds

"Hey, Curly-bro!"

"I'm a little busy!" Sanji called over his shoulder, a splash of wine to the searing pan fueling flames up in front of him.

"Cool, just want you to know I'm stealin' your cigs."

"WHAT?" Franky had already vanished from the kitchen door, safely out of range of any foul words or projectile kitchen utensils Sanji could have used. Cursing, Sanji gave the beef a flip and threw another dash of garlic salt over the meal. "Soon as I finish this, I swear…"

It was a strained few minutes before he could put the dish on a low simmer and dart out of the kitchen, ripping off his apron and glowering about the deck for the resident carpenter. "Shitty bastard, where the hell'd you run off to…" It was hard to miss Franky, wherever the man would be, and a quick glance made it clear he wasn't out in front. Sanji took a moment to locate the telltale scent of nicotine, drifting from the aft of the ship.

Stomping around behind the cabins, Sanji found the thief, leaning over the rail and a thin cloud of smoke drifting from a pilfered cigarette between Franky's lips.

"There you are, asshole!"

Franky blinked before looking over, and gave Sanji a grin. "Oh, hey, Eyebrow-bro. Thanks for the smokes."

"Don't steal shit and then act like it was given!" The chef stomped over and snatched the box from its perch on the rail. "Dammit, how the hell did you already go through two of them?"

The cyborg huffed and took another draw. "Jeez, you're in a bad mood. Luffy get into the fridge again?"

"YOU'RE THE ONE PISSING ME OFF, SHITHEAD!" Swatting at the air, Sanji was thoroughly tempted to just snatch the cigarette from the bastard's lips. "Next time I catch you stealing my stuff, I'll cut your meat into fillets and convert your shitty parts into a new oven, got that?"

"Jeez, get over yourself, asshole!"

"You're the asshole, asshole!"

There was a seething moment of glares shared between the two of them. Franky broke the gaze after several long seconds, grumbling at the sea. Sanji huffed and pulled out a smoke of his own. "Oi, gimme a light."

Franky complied with a tiny Fresh Fire, and the chef leaned against the rail next to him, breathing in the nicotine.


	25. Priorities: Ark

"Eh… shouldn't you fix your, uh, face first, mister?"

"Dun' call me mister, kid, it ain't my damn name." Franky didn't look up from the blueprints he was poring over.

"Yessir. Sorry."

"Don't call me sir, either, dammit!" He glared back at Kitton, who flinched at the bulging eyes leering from underneath scorched fur. The cyborg paused, before going back to the papers.

"Just… I think it would be easier if you, you know… were able to go outside without…"

"Don't care about any of that." A small arc of electricity jumped from his fingers over his pen as they scrawled down notes.

"Er… but…"

Franky pounded his fist against the table, growling with impatience. He'd put on the furs to keep them from freaking out too badly, what more did they want? "Kid, bring me more cola or back off, okay? I'm busy saving a life here!"

That comment startled the boy, who fell silent a moment before braving another question. "What do you mean, saving a… you're designing a bunch of weapons, you know."

"Yeah, yeah," Franky grunted, waving a hand. "It's a shipwright thing, kid. Lea'me alone, wouldja?"

There was a moment of debate on Kitton's part, before a small zap of electricity sputtered over Franky's chest. With a small noise of discomfort, the boy finally retreated, leaving the hidden lab into the snowy air. Franky gave a huff.

Little things like restoring his body could wait a little longer. All he could think of for now, though, was the realization that somewhere, leagues away, a ship was waiting for him, empty. And if he didn't keep focusing on that ship, sending it his attention even from this distance, well… something inside it could die. For a shipwright, nothing could be worse than that thought.


	26. True Taste: Pie

Cutty Flam bounced in his seat, eyes bright and fixed on the kitchen door. "When's it coming? What's taking her so long, where is it?"

"Tahahaha—ha—haha! Calm down, Franky, you'll get some soon!" Tom leaned back in his chair, beaming wide as ever. "The wait'll make it taste better!"

The boy beat impatient fists against the table. "Only if I don't die of excitement first! I'm hungry, what's taking Kokoro so long?"

"Die of excite—phhhahaha, you would, wouldn't you?" The fishman broke into more wheezing laughter, hands clapped against his belly.

In the moment of the mentor's distraction, Iceberg leaned across the table. "Hey, Franky, I'm being serious. Don't eat it. It'll kill you."

A glare was shot at the elder apprentice. "Don't think you can scare me out of my share just like that, Moronburg. I haven't gotten to eat a real dessert in years, you're not gonna steal my treat!"

Iceberg hissed a breath through his teeth. "You're not listening, Kokoro's cooking is—"

"Shut up." Flam had stopped listening entirely, craning his neck to try and get a look through the doorway and basking in the scent of fresh pastry. "OLD HAAAG, HOW MUCH LONGER IS IT?"

"I'm here, you impatient little brat." In spite of irritation, Kokoro appeared with a sharp-toothed smile, pie steaming between her mitts. "You can't rush a delicacy!" She set the treat down on the table and swatted away impatient hands from Franky and Yokozuna.

But when she cut in, it wasn't sweet fruit that was hidden under the crust, but rather a green slime, accentuated with orange bulbs. Flam gawked as a slice was set on a plate.

"Seaweed and fishegg pie," Tom said with a wistful sigh. "One of Fishman Island's finest delicacies. I wish you could make this more often, Kokoro!"

"Well, I figured you all earned the special treat." The mermaid set the first slice in front of a now-still Franky. "There. Your first Mermaid delicacy. Worth the wait, I hope."

Iceberg was rubbing his forehead. He'd tried to warn him against sounding too excited, now the moron wouldn't be able to talk his way out of that thick slice—

"This looks _awesome."_ Franky's grin had returned full-force, and he snatched up his fork. "Super work, old lady!"

The older boy watched as his colleague dug in, vaguely wondering why he was surprised. "Really no is accounting for taste," he muttered to himself, before forcing a smile and accepting the plate Kokoro offered.


	27. Bro the Dad: White

Kiwi and Mozu exchanged nervous glances as they stood behind Franky. "Boss, we're sorry. Please don't be mad."

Their leader gave a loud sniff without looking up from where he hunched over the table. "M-morons… why should I get upset over you? Dammit, go away, I'm not cryin'!"

Mozu took a step forward. "Really, it was nothing! We were just fooling around, there's no need…"

She was interrupted by the banging of Franky's fist hitting the table. "Yeah, yeah, I know! You girls go around, flirtin' and carryin' on, an' it don't mean nothin'! While here I am, thinkin' I taught my li'l sisters better'n that, but you two're growin' up so quick…"

"Boss…" Kiwi bit her lip, exchanging another helpless look with her sister. "Come on, just because we're off flirting doesn't mean you're not still number one!" There was a pause, before she tried another tactic. "I mean, you can't take it all that seriously… we were just messing with Paulie, is all…"

The leader's sniffling lessened, before he glanced back at them, puffy eyes hidden behind his shades. "Jus'… jus' Paulie?"

The two nodded emphatically.

Franky leapt up, quite suddenly recovered. "Shit, why didn't you say so sooner! That ain't worth makin' a fuss over!" The girls gave a cheer of agreement, while Franky made a mental note to go beat the hell out of that scrawny shipwright later on.


	28. Let It Fly: Drift

Chopper sighed, watching a seagull gliding overhead. "I bet it would be so nice to fly, like a bird."

"Hey, wait—no! We tried that already!" Usopp shook his head. "We nearly died! The sky is a scary place!"

The reindeer bit his lip. "Not like that! Flying all on your own, like with wings… it would be really relaxing, I think."

Sanji gave a small hum of contemplation as he set down a platter of drinks for the group. "From venison to fowl, huh?"

As Chopper howled at the chef to quit talking like that, Luffy laughed between gulps of his drink. "Who cares, anyway? It's not as great as being on the ocean!"

Franky nodded, sipping at his own cup of tea. "I'm with Strawhat on that one. Flyin's fun and all, but there's nothing quite like havin' a ship rockin' under your feet."

The sniper frowned, leaning over at him. "Wait, why are you talking like you know any better? You haven't tried flying!"

"Feh! You mean I haven't showed you?" With a wide grin, Franky made a one-armed flex. "I got a jet pack installed in me! I can fly as high as my cola allows!"

In an instant, Luffy, Chopper, and Usopp were in front of him, nearly sparkling with anticipation. "Really? _Really?_ How, how?"

Beaming even harder, the cyborg set down his tea and stood. "Fine, if you want, I'll give you a real display of how to fly in style!"

Quietly and without their noticing, Robin took her drink and left the room.


	29. Over It: Moon

Franky stifled a yawn as he threw his rubbery captain over one shoulder, and in spite of the hard metal bolts digging in, there was little more than a sleepy mumble from the boy. Franky then trudged over to pluck Chopper from where the deer had fallen asleep, chin resting on the table and frosting-covered fork still held loose in one hoof.

In the two years since he'd seen them last, they'd gotten a bit bigger, a bit heavier, but Franky had gotten bigger, as well. It was no trouble balancing the two of them. He was glad, at least, that they didn't seem to mind the slightly pointier or colder aspects of his new anatomy. He made his way to the door, only to find it being held open for him.

"Ahh… Mister Franky…" Only the slightest tilt of Brook's skull indicated his looking from one sleeping pirate to the next. "They truly tuckered themselves out, didn't they?"

The cyborg snickered. "You'd think they're all still kids, the way these guys carried on. They sure haven't forgotten how to celebrate, I tell ya."

"Still children… yes." Empty eyes directed over Franky's shoulder, into the room, and the shipwright followed the sightless gaze back behind him. Zoro slumped against one wall, hugging his swords closer than ever. Usopp mumbled a melody in his sleep, slurring that sounded vaguely like "lock on." Sanji had drifted off, hair a slight mess where it rubbed against the crook of his arm. Nami dozed in her chair, covered in the blanket Sanji had found for her, faint smile still on her face, looking rather angelic in comparison to the wrath of her waking moments. Unsurprisingly, Robin had slipped off somewhere to sleep that was more practical.

"'S weird," Franky mumbled. "Seein' them change so much, but the same old loons they used t'be, huh?"

"Yoho, Mister Franky, I should think you're the one most astounding, in that matter!"

"Eh?" Turning back, he realized for the first time that he actually was taller than the skeleton now. He raised an eyebrow, before ducking out the door that was still held open for him. "I'm just doin' what I do, same as ever, bro."

"That you are, that you are…" Brook shut the door. "Amazing, how you all are capable of such flexibility… why—" There was a sudden muffling of titters, "—I have no muscles to flex at all!"

Out of recognition for the sleeping pair he carried, Franky held back a laugh—or maybe it was a groan. "Buddy, you gotta be a lousy rockstar, if you ain't changed at all!"

"Oh, it was quite the experience, of that I've no doubt." His afro bobbed with his vacant nodding as Brook made his way to the door of the men's quarters and held the door open again. "But really, the whole time, my mind was stuck in one place, back here." There was a pause, and then the giggles came again, even more poorly hidden. "And me without a mind at all, that's quite a feat!"

Franky rolled his eyes, but grinned all the same as he entered the dark room. "Yeah. I get whatcha mean." He set down his charges on their hammocks, and took a long moment to watch Luffy's sleeping face. After a pause, he looked down at his blocky, red hands. "No matter what happened, I was still thinkin' bout back here. Guess it makes it harder to notice changes, when you're just thinkin' about gettin' back to where you were."

He looked back to the thin frame waiting at the door, outlined in moonlight. Brook was silent for a very long moment, and Franky had the distinct impression that the skeleton wasn't really looking into the room at all. "Oh yes. Yes, I'd certainly imagine it does."


	30. The Limit: Sky

Every now and then, patting the sanded-smooth wood of the Thousand Sunny, Franky would reflect on just how close his dream was.

He had an advantage over the others. He had a finite goal, something he knew could be attained—that perhaps already was. He knew that the task of a ship overcoming the Grand Line could be done. And while the man had never exactly thought himself a cynic, other members of the team weren't quite so assured of their goal.

No one had ever been known to find All Blue. No one had ever mapped the world. No one had cured any and all sickness before. There was no pre-paved path for some of these crewmates. They were winging it, hoping to figure it out on their own.

And still Franky thought he was pretty damn well off over a couple of the remaining. Zoro's guiding teacher was an enemy, someone he knew through driving desire to beat but nothing personal. Luffy had less. Luffy had a legend, a man who was by now almost more an idea, as much a toss-up as any of the others.

Franky knew his predecessor firsthand. Tom wasn't as famous as Mihawk or Roger, but Franky had known him as a man before he'd known him as a name. He had seen just how achievable his dreams could be, known the mortal in all his flaws and unending virtues. Franky knew exactly what sort of person it took to accomplish his dreams.

But while the others might have had more of a drifting idea of exactly what needed to be done, no clear outline ahead of them, it almost made them seem all the luckier. Any time the shipwright thought to mention it, he stopped himself with a smirk. He already knew what Luffy had to say on the matter.

"That's what makes it an adventure!"


End file.
